Every year she came to this place. While the rest of Oz celebrated the demise of the Wicked Witch, Glinda the Good stood before a lonely grave in a lonely cemetery and wept. For every blazing fire cracker that exploded over the Emerald City another tear rolled down her cheek, for every roar of the cheering crowds another sob escaped her lips.

This year, as with every other year, she brought her goat with her. An old looking goat with a silly little waistcoat. Most Animals thought it a crime against their kind to dress their less evolved brethren in such an obviously mocking manor, but the old goat would savagely bite anyone foolish enough to try to remove it's coat. If anyone asked her, Glinda would simply say that as far as was concerned the old goat deserved his waistcoat and much more besides.

While Glinda wept over an unnamed grave the old goat carefully chewed away all the grass and weed, leaving only the single pink bloom that Glinda herself had planted there many years earlier. Once the goat had finished he sat down beside Glinda, who was by now on her knees. The goat nuzzled against her side in an effort to comfort the distraught witch. She just sobbed all the more as she turned and wrapped the goat in a desperate hug, her face buried in his fancy waistcoat.

"Excuse me miss Glinda, I don't mean to intrude but are you all right?"

The Good Witch lifts her head up and wipes her eyes but does not turn to face the woman behind her, "I'll be fine. I've just come to visit an old friend. I'd very much like to be alone please."

"Sorry to disturb you miss Glinda. It's just that, today's a celebration. It's the happiest day of the year for everyone in Oz."

"Not for everyone," Glinda whispers, just barely loud enough to be heard. "Not for me."

There was silence for a while and Glinda was starting to think the woman had left, "who was your friend?"

"Someone I went to school with. She was... She was killed by the Wicked Witch just before Dorothy killed her."

"Oh, I'm... I'm so sorry to hear that. She must have been very special person for you to still miss her so much."

For the first time that day Glinda smiled, not a large smile by any means, but a smile none-the-less. "Yes she was," Glinda replied, "she was very special indeed."

"I'll leave you with your very special friend then miss Galinda, and though I wish the circumstances were happier it was a true joy to see you again."

"Thank you, it was nice to..." she trailed off as the strangers last sentence ran through her mind. "What did you call me?" Glinda shot to her feet and spun around but the woman was already walking away, her loose black hair flowing down her back. "Wait!" she yelled as she gathered her skirts chased after the tall woman. She stopped, still with her back turned as Glinda came to a stop.

"No one has called me that for more than 16 years and the tiny handful of people who did know me by that name are either dead or would never use it. So then..."

The tall woman didn't move, didn't speak. The silence seemed to drag on for an eternity until the goat nudged Glinda with one of his horns. In his mouth was the solitary pink bloom from the grave. With trembling fingers Glinda took the flower and slowly closed the distance with the mysterious woman. She carefully reached up and pushed the stem under the black tresses before stepping back.

"You know, you were right all those years ago," the woman said as she turned around. "Pink does go good with green."